


Deep Breathing

by Dannyblue



Series: Torn [1]
Category: Charmed
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dannyblue/pseuds/Dannyblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Wyatt has to share a bedroom with Chris, it's harder to pretend certain feelings don't exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Breathing

Chris just kept… _breathing_.

Wyatt Halliwell glared angrily at the ceiling fan spinning serenely overhead. Not like the fan was helping anyway. It wasn't hot enough for the air conditioner, or so their mother said. But despite the ceiling fan, and the soft breeze flowing through the partially opened window, a fine sheen of sweat covered his skin. He was hot, and annoyed, and he just wanted some sleep. But it was looking less and less like that was going to happen anytime soon.

Wyatt turned his glare towards the neighboring bed. While Wyatt was hidden in shadows, Chris—whose bed was closer to the window—was bathed in silver-blue moonlight. And he was tucked pretty good under a sheet, despite how warm the room was, the only part of him showing the top of his dark head.

Wyatt's jaw clenched. Chris was over there, as snug as a bug in a rug, sleeping as peacefully as a newborn baby. A 747 could come crashing through the window, and it probably wouldn't wake him. Yet Wyatt, as tired as he was, couldn't get to sleep because of Chris's damned _breathing._

With an angry sigh, Wyatt turned over onto his side, so that his back was facing the window, and his younger brother's bed. Pulling the pillow over his head, he pressed it tight against his ear.

If only their parents hadn't agreed to keep the cousins while Aunt Paige and her husband went on one of their little romantic getaways. Then, Wyatt would be in his own room, in his own bed, fast asleep.

Although, it wasn't like this was the first time the brothers had shared a room. They'd shared until the aunts moved out, in fact. And someone (the aunts, the cousins, grandpa) always seemed to be staying over for the night. It was why Chris's room had double beds. It made it more convenient when Wyatt needed to bunk down with him. So, really, he'd been sleeping in the same room as his brother, off and on, for 15 years. Fifteen years, and he'd never noticed the breathing before. It was just background noise, a night sound as familiar—and comforting—as the old house creaking while everything else was still. Something he was so used to, he didn't even notice it.

Until now.

And, even with the pillow pressed over his head, he could still hear Chris breathing. In and out, in and out. Like soft little sighs filling the room.

Groaning softly, Wyatt gave up. Putting the pillow back under his head, he flung himself over onto his back, threw one well-muscled arm over his eyes. He tried to take his mind off of Chris's breathing by thinking about the test he had tomorrow. The test he would probably fail if he didn't get some sleep.

Then, the test was forgotten. Because Chris took a long, deep breath—longer and deeper than anyone should be capable of—and it was like he was whispering, whispering words too soft to hear, lips almost brushing against Wyatt's ear. And his phantom breath sent a shiver down Wyatt's back, Made his stomach clench, almost like he'd been punched in the gut, and it was all he could do not to moan out loud.

Then, Chris exhaled. And, even though Wyatt knew it was the ceiling fan, the soft breeze coming through the open window, it felt like a thousand warm little breaths were suddenly dancing across his naked, sweat-dampened chest, his arms, his neck. And he shivered again, as all those tiny little breaths made every nerve in every inch of skin tingle.

And Chris was still breathing—in and out, in and out. And every little breath made Wyatt's skin a little hotter, made his stomach clench a little harder.

Reaching down, Wyatt grabbed the thin sheet that he'd pushed down to his waist hours ago. He clenched the crisp fabric in one powerful fist, squeezing until his nails dug into his palm. He had to think of something else. Anything else. Not the test. That hadn't worked. So, think about that part-time job he'd considered applying for. Or…Tracy! Think of Tracy. Tracy with her long, blond hair and sky blue eyes. And the smile that could light up a room. When he first saw her, he thought she had the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen.

Well, almost. Because Chris's smile didn't just light up a room. It seemed to light up the whole world. Sometimes, Chris would smile, and Wyatt stopped breathing. Just stopped. Like his brain was too busy basking in that smile's warm glow to bother doing anything else.

And, suddenly, all Wyatt could see was Chris's smile. And other things, too. Like the way he looked when he was really angry, green eyes so bright and clear they seemed to sparkle. And the way he looked diving into a pool, his long, lean body slicing through the water.

"No, dammit!" Wyatt hissed, pressing the heels of his hands against his closed eyelids, and trying to push the images away. Because there were things a brother shouldn't want. Things a brother shouldn't…need. His head knew that. _He_ knew that. But something else deep inside, something dangerous and dark, had other ideas. It was hungry, and it wanted to be fed. And it didn't seem to care how hard Wyatt fought against those thoughts. Tried to deny and ignore those feelings. It just hungered, and craved, and wanted. And, at night, it was so much harder to fight...

And Chris was still breathing. In and out, in and out…

Taking a deep breath of his own, Wyatt let go of the sheet, and pressed his hand against his stomach. His fingers splayed against the taught skin, almost caressing his well-defined abs. (He could almost hear Chris teasing him about working out so much. "Some guys will do anything to get the chicks," he'd say, then he'd snicker as Wyatt took a swat at his head.)

He let his hand rest on his stomach for a while, moving in slow circles, a part of him still pretending he wasn't about to…

Then Chris let out this soft, sleepy sigh that zipped like electric current straight to Wyatt's core. It was like a physical shock, that made the older teen gasp out loud.

Wyatt squeezed his eyes shut, some part of him still resistant, whispering for him to stop. But slowly, inch by painful inch, he let his hand slip beneath the light sheet that covered his lower body. Slip beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms.

And he tried to convince himself this was just like all those other times. He was a healthy teen-aged boy, after all. This was hardly the first time he'd done this. Only, he'd never done it when his brother was in the same room before. Right in the next bed. He'd never done it while focusing on the sound of Chris breathing, every inhale and exhale filling his head until there was nothing else. Whispers and sighs surrounding him on every side, invisible caresses touching him, stroking him in rhythm with the hand under the covers.

The ache deep inside grew, pressure building as every nerve ending seemed to scream to life. And he was panting, the sounds of his own breathing—quick and harsh—mixing with Chris's, filling the room…and making Wyatt want even more.

It was like a storm, building in strength, in intensity, swelling up inside him until he wanted to scream. And, when the storm finally broke…

Wyatt threw his head back, pressing it deep into the pillow. His back arched as waves of pleasure crashed over him, harder and better than anything he'd ever felt before. His free hand clenched at the bed, fisting in the wrinkled sheets. As his head twisted from side to side, he clenched his teeth to keep himself from crying out.

Gasping for air, he let the images fill his head. Images of dark hair, and green eyes. A long, lean body. And that smile…

And one name kept echoing through his head…

_Chris._

 

* * *

Chris woke with a start.

Still half a sleep, he lifted his head.

"What…?" For a moment, he frowned, unsure of what woke him up. Then, he remembered he wasn't sleeping alone in his bedroom tonight. "Wyatt?" Squinting in the dark, he looked towards his older brother's bed, unable to see anything because Wyatt's bed was in the shadows.

There was a long pause. For a second, he thought Wyatt was asleep, and he hadn't heard what he thought he'd heard.

"What is it, Chris?" And Wyatt's voice sounded strange. Kind of deep and husky. He was probably still half asleep, too.

Yawning, Chris reached up to rub his tired eyes. "I thought I heard you say my name."

Another long pause. Then, "Because you were snoring."

Any other time, Chris would've taken issue with that. He did _not_ snore…he was pretty sure. But he was way too tired to argue about it right now. "Oh. Sorry."

"Go back to sleep, little brother."

"'Kay," Chris mumbled, snuggling back under the sheet. No matter how warm it was he always liked to have something over him when he slept.

He was just drifting off again when he heard Wyatt get out of bed and leave the room. He was probably going to the bathroom. Or to get a snack. Considering the excellent shape he was in, people wouldn't believe how much Wyatt could pig out sometimes. His idea of a late night snack was a burger and fries.

Smiling a little, Chris settled in to go back to sleep. He always slept best on nights when he shared a room with Wyatt. He wasn't sure why. Maybe because they'd shared a room for so long when they were younger.

Or maybe he just felt safer when his big brother was nearby.

 

 

**THE END**


End file.
